


Tough Love

by sammyluvsya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ant-Man (2015) Post-Credits Scene, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stucky - Freeform, Your bucky, bucky barnes recovery, help in the shower, your moms name was sarah and you used to wear newspaper in your shoes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:38:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5331107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyluvsya/pseuds/sammyluvsya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding Bucky in an abandoned warehouse with his arm stuck in a machine, Sam and Steve take him to Tony to get his arm fixed up. Almost immediatly, the realize that fixing Bucky is going to be harder than they expected. He doesn't know who he is, can't do anything for himself, and barely talks. He see's Steve as his handler, which isn't how Steve wants to be seen.<br/>Bucky slowly learns to trust Steve, talking more, and, eventually, he learns to love.</p><p>Or</p><p>Bucky is super fucked up and Steve just wants what's best for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Literally starts where the Ant Man end credits stop. I started writing this before the Civil War Trailer came out, so the "Newspaper in your shoes" part takes place later.  
> Also, I used google translate for all Russian parts. I do not in any way speak Russian.

Steve's POV

 

My best friend was kneeling on the ground in front of me, his metal arm stuck in the compression machine.

"Помоги мне," he whimpered, but I didn't understand him. I looked at Sam who shook his head.

"Uh, bad idea, Cap," he said, but I ignored him.

"What are you saying, Buck?" I asked my trapped friend in a soft voice as I neared him. I crouched down right out of arms length, even though his flesh arm couldn't do anything that could hurt me. Well, it couldn't hurt me that bad.

"Помоги мне," he repeated but I just shook my head.

"I don't speak Russian, Buck. English. English," I repeated, emphasizing my point.

"Help me," he whispered and I felt a tug in my chest. This man in front of me, this man who's murdered dozens of people, was helpless. Nevertheless, I stood up and put my hand on either side of the machines grip.

Before I had the chance to even try lifting, Bucky whimpered and shook his head.

"No, no the button," he huffed and pointed with his free hand to the button on the wall. "The button."

I gestured for Sam to check it out as I stayed by my friend.

"How did you get here, Buck?" I asked softly but he just shook his head.

"I think he put himself there," Sam said and back walked over to us from where he was looking at the wall. "That's the power button he wants us to press. It'd rip his arm off or crush it or something like that."

"What?" I asked, my head snapping back to Bucky who just nodded softly.

"It needs to be gone," he whispered.

"Why?" I asked and Bucky looked at me for the first time.

"No handlers, no maintenance," he said, talking louder than a whisper now. "Doesn't work right and it hurts. It needs to go." Even though he was talking at a normal volume, he still had a soft tone and his voice trembled.

"Are you in pain right now?" I asked and he hesitated before he nodded. I looked up at Sam who was still standing next to us, watching the exchange. "There should be something that can help under the passenger seat of my car. Can you please go get it?"

"Aye aye, Captain," he said before giving me a sarcastic two finger salute and jogging to get the tranquilizer gun I had hidden away.

"You're going to be okay," I told Bucky and he nodded slowly. "I'm going to help you."

I spoke softly to him as Sam snuck around the building. When he came in from behind Bucky, I gave him a subtle nod and he emptied the clip into the Super Soldier's back.

"Is that going to kill him?" I asked as I caught Buck who had slumped over, making sure that his arm wasn't strained.  
"I don't know. Would it kill you?" I shrugged

"Probably not," I said honestly and Sam nodded.

"Then he should be fine."

It wasn't that difficult to get Bucky out of the machine. He wasn't trapped; so much as he was there willingly. With me lifting the thing that had pinned down his arm and Sam pulling Bucky away, we got him out of it in less than two minutes.

Not long later, Sam and I were sitting in the front of the his car with Bucky lying in the back seat under a blanket so he couldn't be seen by any street cameras. It was sort of like transporting a dead body.

Halfway through the trip, I pulled out my phone and dialed the person I needed to talk to.

"'Sup, Capsicle. What do you need?" Tony said when he answered after the fifth ring.

"How quickly can you get to your house in Montana?"

"I can be there in less than thirty minutes, why?" I could hear the curiosity in his voice as I pointed out the exit for Sam to take.

"I'll show you when I get there. I'll be at your house in an hour. Have you're lab ready."

"My lab ready for what?" He asked but I just hung up my phone, not wanting to explain everything to him right now.

"What do you think he'll do when we show up with a wanted assassin?" I asked and Sam shrugged.

"I don't know, we'll just have to wait and see."

 

~~~

 

We pulled into the garage that lead straight to the lab where Tony was waiting.

"What's going on?" he asked the moment I stepped out of the car. I ignored him and opened the door to the back seat. Tony followed me and as I pulled the blanket back, his eyes widened.

"Is that-," he started but I cut him off.

"Yeah."

"What's wrong with him?" Tony asked and Sam answered this time, and he looked pretty proud of himself.

"I shot a clip full of tranque darts into him."

Tony's eyes widened once again and he looked at me. "Couldn't that kill him?"

"We hope not," I said and Sam started walking towards the steps.

"Well you two seem to have everything under control, and I'm hungry, so I'll be back with snacks." We nodded and he left.

I took the blanket off Bucky and threw it on the top of the car. I pulled his legs until most of his body was off the seats. I grabbed his around his waist and tossed him over my shoulder.

Tony had run off to clear somethings off, muttering something like, "Well if you would've told me you were bringing him here, I could've have the right things prepared." I just ignored him.

He directed me towards a metal chair that I sat Bucky down in, before pulling out a pair of scissors and cutting off the soldier's red sweater. We pulled it off over his arms and I rested his back carefully onto the metal chair once again.

The cold must have woken him up because once his back touched the chairs surface, his eyes flew open and he sat up.

His instincts took over and he let out a cry as he shoved Tony across the room with his metal arm.

I quickly reached over him, holding his shoulders down and getting in his face.

"Bucky, I need you to calm down," I said as nicely as I could under the stress. He struggled beneath me, not listening. "Calm down, that's an order."

His body froze and stiffened almost immediately. He allowed me to push his shoulders back, flinching softly as his body hit the cold metal once more, but he didn't say anything.

"You okay?" I asked Tony who was getting up from where he was thrown.  
He nodded. "Yeah, nothing a little aspirin or a quick trip to the emergency room couldn't fix."

I took that as a 'cleared for duty,' and I moved my hands off of Bucky's shoulders.

"Tony here is going to work on your arm and hopefully make it stop hurting. Is that okay?" I asked and the soldier nodded after a second. He moved his arm, it making loud clicks as the plates on it rippled, and set it onto the metal arm of the chair.

Tony went right to work, staring at the arm with fascination and doing god knows what to it.

I watched Bucky as he sat there, void of all emotions, staring that the wall in front of him.

Every once in a while he would flinch in pain and I'd slap Tony who would glare at me and say, "I'm being as gentle as I can," before going back to work on the arm.

Not long later, Sam came back down with a plate full of sandwiches and one in his hand that he was already eating.

"A little help?" He called from the other side of the glass door. I quickly walked over and opened it and when I turned back around, I saw that Bucky wasn't staring at the wall anymore. His eyes were focused on me as I moved back towards him, holding two sandwiches.

As I offered him one, he looked confused and shook his head.

"What's wrong?" I asked and he shook his head again, muttering something. "Can you please speak up, Buck? I can't hear you," I asked softly.

"I.V." That shocked all of us.

"They fed you through an I.V.?" Sam asked as he neared and Bucky nodded. Tony walked away and came back a minute later with an I.V. hanging on it's stand. Sam and I gave him weird looks because, well, who just has I.V.'s?

"Don't ask," he said and he brought it around to Bucky's right side and got everything set up. "I'm going to poke your arm now, alright?" Tony asked and surprisingly, Bucky looked at me. I nodded in encouragement, making Bucky nod too.

"Alright," he said softly and Tony pushed the needle into one of the veins in the soldier's right forearm. He didn't flinch or make any sound, he just stared at me and I gave him a small smile. When I took a bite of my sandwich, his focus switched back to the wall.

After a little while, Sam pulled me away. We stood about ten feet from the chair, talking about what to do next as Tony worked on Bucky's arm.

"It's not like you can just take him to your apartment in Brooklyn!" Sam argued but I shook my head.

"Why not? It's safe there."

"No, it's not. He's been all over the news with the highway attack not that long ago. Someone would be bound to notice him. Anyways, don't forget the fact that he's an assassin who works for Hydra!" Sam whispered angrily, trying to stay quiet so that Bucky couldn't hear us, but I had a feeling he could.

"I'll make him wear a jacket to cover up his arm and we'll do something about his hair. I'll make sure he doesn't kill anyone, but if Hydra comes to collect him, I'll probably let him take some of them out."

Sam just shook head, knowing I wasn't going to give up, but still trying to convince me otherwise. "That's a terrible idea. SHEILD will find out and take him in because they think he's a threat."

"SHEILD thinks he died in the Helicarrier crash," I pointed out.

"Well when they see him walking around Brooklyn, they might just change their minds."

I sighed. "Then we'll stay hidden for a few weeks until we get everything cleared with them. I'm sure if Fury or Hill came and spoke with him, everything will be fine."

"He shot Fury," Sam deadpanned.

"Then Hill, or Natasha," I suggested.

"What if he's still in Hydra's pocket?" Sam countered, trying to make me see 'reason.'

"What if he's not?" Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead before speaking.

"Where would we stay?" He asked, giving up. Tony joined the conversation.

"You can stay here. It's not like I actually live here." We gave him confused looks. "Oh don't look at me like that. It's not like you guys are actually staying quiet. I could hear everything you've said."

We walked back over to Tony who was taking a break and eating a sandwich. I grabbed another one for myself.

"We can stay here?" I asked and he nodded.

"So long as you don't throw any ragers, it's fine."

The three of us spent the next hour talking and eating as Tony continued to work on Bucky's arm, who was staring at the wall in front of us without moving.

"Done!" Tony announced and we all moved away from the soldier who was looking at the billionaire. "Go on, stand up and tell me how it feels."

Bucky did as he was told, ripping the needle out of his flesh arm and standing up. He stretched, moving his metal arm in different ways, testing all angels. The arm made noise as it moved, but Bucky didn't seem to notice it, so it must have done that normally.

"It feel good, thank you," Bucky said in a soft voice and Tony smiled.  
"No problem. Anytime you need me to work on it, just let me know," Tony said as he started walking away and he tossed me a key that caught easily. "I should get going. Pepper is probably worried about me, seeing as I disappeared in the middle of a meeting without telling her where I was going. So, bye, I'll check in on you guys in a few days. Try not to break anything."

Before we had the chance to say goodbye, Tony walked into a suit that was standing there waiting for him and he flew off.

"Show off," Sam muttered as he walked towards the glass door. I motioned for Bucky to follow me and we went up to the main level.  
I went and sat on the couch as Sam kept walking up the next flight of stairs.

"Where are you going?" I asked as Bucky came to a stop in front me, unsure of where to go or what to do.

"To bed!" Sam called.

"It's only seven," I joked.

"It's been a stressful day," he responded and I heard a door shut, ending our conversation.

I looked at Bucky who was standing in front of me. He had his hands behind his back and he feet were shoulder length apart. He was standing at ease and was still shirtless.

"Come sit," I told him and patted the couch. He sat down a little ways away, not to far but not as close as a normal person would've. I turned to face him.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked softly and Bucky nodded.

"You're my mission," he said and then tensed up and shook his head. "No, you're Steve."

I smiled. So he does remember me. Well, he remembers my name at least.

"Do you know who you are?"

"Winter," he said before shaking his head. "No, Asset." He started shaking his head harshly. "Soldier." He brought his hands to his head and started pulling at his hair, wining in fruition as he whispered "No, no, no, no," over and over again.

I move closer to him, carefully moving his hands from his hair so he wouldn't rip any out.

"Bucky, I need you to stop. You're going to hurt yourself." His head snapped up at my words.

"Bucky," he said and I smiled. "Bucky," he repeated, wanting me to confirm it.

"Yeah, you're name is Bucky," I said, letting go of his hands. One was cold and metal, the other was warm and normal.

He smiled softly, making my heart melt. I hadn't seen that smile in over 70 year, and boy did I miss it. It wasn't like I used to pay attention to Bucky's smile in the Forties, it's just that when someone smiles, it means that they're happy, and if the Bucky that was sitting in front of me was even the slightest bit happy, I was ecstatic. Then he yawned.

"Are you tired?" he nodded. "Okay, follow me." I stood up from the couch and walked up the stairs. I had to check behind me a few times to make sure that he was actually following me because he was so quiet. It was like he was walking on pillows.

As we entered one of the many bedrooms, Bucky looked around skeptically and he fidgeted. His hand went to his back, almost like he was grabbing a gun, but he didn't have anything. Sam and I had taken the few guns, knives and bombs that we had found on him. To be honest, it was an impressive amount that had been concealed in civilian clothes. Not to mention the obseen amount that was in his backpack.

"Don't worry," I told him, "no one's going to attack you while you're here. You have no need for any weapons. You're safe with me around. I'll protect you." He nodded and headed to the bed like I directed him to.  
He looked confused as he neared it, almost like he didn't know what to do. That when I realized he didn't know what to do.

I walked over by him and pulled back the covers. "Just lay down under here. If you have to go to the bathroom or shower or something, it's right through there," I pointed to the door leading to the bathroom. "If you need me, I'll be in the room next door." I pointed towards the wall on the right, "Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

I smiled and headed towards the door. "Good night."

He didn't respond but as I closed the door, I could've swore I heard him say, 'thank you,' but I wasn't sure.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve's POV

I woke up around six the next morning, which meant I got a good ten hours of sleep. I don't remember dreaming but that was better than having nightmares.

As I walked out of my room to check on Bucky, I could smell bacon, which meant that Sam was cooking. Unless Bucky somehow knew how to cook, but based on the fact that he didn't eat, I doubted that.

I knocked on the door before opening it, as to not scare him. "Bucky, it's Steve. Can I come in?" I asked through the door.

I heard a faint, "Yes," so I opened up the door and walked through.

"How did you sleep?" I asked.

"Good, thank you," he said and I gave him a small smile.

"You're welcome." I walked over to the bed that he was sitting in and saw a red stain on the pillow. That's when I noticed the dried blood matted in his hair, making a section of it darker than the grease already was. It was probably like that last night, but I must not have noticed.

"You need to take a shower," I told him and he gave me a confused look. "Come and follow me," I said and I heard the creak of the bed as he got out of it, but not his silent footsteps.

I went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. "Just get on in, there's some shampoo that you just put in your hand so wash your hair, some conditioner to that will make your hair cleaner or something like that, and some body wash that you just rub all over yourself so you can get the dirt and blood off of you." He nodded, taking in my information. "So, strip, get in and turn the water off when you're done. I'll lay some clothes out on your bed for you to get changed into." He nodded again and started taking off his pants, not caring that I was standing right next to him.

I quickly made my exit and left the bathroom, closing the door behind me as I headed to the on the left closet. Tony, being the gracious host that he is, has two closets in each room of his house; one for men and one for women, with the dressers full of children's clothes. Each are filled with all different sizes so anyone coming to visit doesn't even have to pack a bag, they can just borrow some clothes.

I walked through the door and quickly found my size. I went two sizes smaller, which would hopefully fit Bucky and seeing as he's not as built as I was, it probably would.

I grabbed a white tank top and a thin jacket, along with a pair of underwear and a pair of sweatpants, not wanting to deal with jean sizes right now. I walked back into the room and laid the clothes on the bed.  
I went to the bathroom door and spoke through it. "Hey Bucky, if you need me, just holler. I put your clothes on your bed, so just change into them after you dry off. I'm going to head downstairs with Sam, okay?"

"Okay," he said, just loud enough for me to hear over the water. As I walked away, I heard a wine of frustration, which made me walk back to the door and knock.

"Buck, is everything alright?" I took the next frustrated wine as a 'no'. "I'm going to come in, okay?" When he didn't respond with anything more than a wine once again, I opened the door and walked through. "Bucky, what's wrong?"

"I-I can't-uggg!" Was the response I was given.

"Do you need help?" I asked, hoping not to cross a line and have him think that I though he was helpless, which he wasn't, let me be very clear about that.

Very slowly, the curtain of the shower was pulled back and Bucky stuck his head out and nodded, looking upset and frustrated. "I don't know how to do this."

"Do you remember ever taking a shower?" I asked him in a soft voice, trying to reassure him that it was okay. I read in the file that Natasha gave me that he constantly had his mind wiped, so if this was something they made him forget, it wasn't his fault.

He shook his head and I gave him a small smile.

"It's okay," I told him. "Do you want me to help?" He nodded and I walked closer to the edge of the tub. Not wanting to get my clothes wet, I stripped down to my boxer; going naked would be completely inappropriate, not to mention unnecessary.

As I stepped into the tub, Bucky moved so we wouldn't bump into each other. I took a good look at him and, well, damn. The damn was not only to how he was super fit, but also to the scars covering his torso and legs. They weren't noticeable unless you were close, but they were there. As much as I wanted to know where they all came from, I knew that Bucky probably didn't remember.

I looked around the tub and quickly figured out what made Bucky so frustrated. Out of the many different shampoos and conditioners and whatever else was in here, three bottles were broken. They looked to have been squeezed too tight and cracked open, causing the contents to spill everywhere.

Luckily, there was a grip on the floor of the tub so we didn't have to worry about slipping.

When Bucky saw me frowning at the bottles, he looked sad and slightly scared. When I noticed, I put a smile on my face and chuckled, trying to show him that it was okay.

"Don't worry," I told him. "It's fine. No harm done. Now, I'm going to wash your hair, okay?" He nodded and I grabbed a bottle that wasn't broken. I quickly read that it was the right type, and I poured a generous glob into my hand. I looked at Bucky and gave him a smile, not knowing how he'd feel about the next step.

"I'm going to rub this into you're hair. Is that okay with you?" I asked carefully, giving him the chance to say no. I saw him gulp before he nodded, obviously scared or worried. "It's okay, Buck. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're not?" he asked in a small voice.

I shook my head. "No, I'm not. Why would I?" I asked, curious. He gestured to the broken bottles and I just shook my head. "That was an accident. I need you to remember this, Buck, I'm never going to hurt you."

He nodded and relaxed a little, but he still didn't look like he belived me. I sighed and slowly moved my hands to Bucky's head, not wanting to scare him.

He tensed up at the first touched, but soon relaxed and my fingers started massaging his scalp. I decided to make some casual conversation, but I did most of the talking, which wasn't surprising.  
There was a few things I'd learned about Bucky since finding him yesterday, and one was that he didn't speak that much.

"What all do you remember?" I asked carefully and he tensed for a second before answering.

"I attacked you, that man," he gestured to the wall, "and a women." He talked softly, as if he was afraid to raise his voice and looked at his hands.

"The women was Natasha, and the man who's downstairs is Sam. The guy who worked on your arm last night is named Tony." He nodded as I spoke, taking in all the information. "They don't care that you attacked them as long as you don't do it again," I told him and he nodded.

It took fifteen minutes and four applies of shampoo before all the blood, dirt and grease was out of his hair. I did a quick thing of conditioner to make his hair softer, if that's what it's meant for, before I grabbed a loofa sponge.

I rubbed the soap onto it, making it all foamy, before handing it to Bucky.

"Just rub this all over yourself until all the dirt is off of you and rinse off under the water," I told him and he nodded, taking the sponge from me. "Do you need anything else before I get out?" I asked and he shook his head. I moved the curtain back and stepped out of the shower, pulling it closed behind me.

I wasn't super wet, as Bucky was standing in front of the showerhead taking most of the blow, but I still needed to dry off before getting dressed.

"Bucky, once you're done, turn off the water and get dressed. I left some clothes on your bed, okay?" I said and I waited in the room until he answered.

"Okay."

 

~~~

 

"I'd ask why you're wet, but I'm not sure I want to know," Sam said as I walked into the kitchen. I went over to him and slapped his arm softly, making sure I didn't hurt him.

"It wasn't like that," I said, blushing slightly. "He didn't know what to do, so I helped him."

"Oh I'm sure you did help him," Sam chuckled and I hit his arm harder, causing him to spill some of the coffee he was holding.

"So," I said, changing the topic, "What's for breakfast?"

Sam gave me a look that said 'you must be an idiot' as he gestured to the counter where our food was waiting.

There was fried eggs, fruit, coffee, buttered toast and a thing of what was probably tomato soup, along with an I.V. on a stand, set up and ready to use.

"I figured we could give him his I.V. and maybe something simple like soup to get him started with because he can't be on I.V.'s the rest of his life," Sam explained and I nodded as he spoke.

"Well we can explain it all to him when he comes down. He's finishing up in the shower right now so it probably won't be too long."

Sam and I filled out plates with food and sat down at the table on opposite sides. I made sure that it was still in view of the stairs so that when Bucky came down, he knew right where to find us.

"What all has he said?" Sam asked after a few minutes and I shrugged.

"Not much. It's mostly 'yes,' 'no' and 'okay', or he nods, but last night when I asked him if he knew who I was, he said that I was his mission, but quickly changed to 'Steve.' And then when I asked him his name, he called himself things like 'asset' and 'winter' or 'soldier' before freaking out and trying to rip out his hair," I said and Sam's eyes widened at the news.

"Really?"

"Yeah, but I calmed him down and I said his name and he remember it. Then, in the shower not to long ago, he said that he remembers attacking you, me and Natasha. I'm not sure which attack he remembers, but at least he knows."

"How has he been acting?"

"He seems terrified," I said and then started to explain. "He constantly looks scared or worried. He even thought I was going to hurt him for breaking some shampoo bottles."

"Why?" Sam asked and I shrugged, taking a bite of my eggs.

I swallowed before I answered. "I don't know, but whatever Hydra did to him really screwed with his mind and emotions."

"Well, they didn't do anything that can't be undone with a little bit of effort," Sam said with an encouraging smile.

We changed topics to Tony and his house and how it somehow was stocked with fresh fruits and foods.

"Dude, I wouldn't even question it. I mean, it's Tony. We'll never really understand anything about him or his places," Sam said and I saw a movement over his shoulder.

Bucky was walking down the stairs fully dress. He looked tensed, but visibly relaxed some as he saw me.

"Morning Bucky," Sam said, looking over his shoulder. "How are you?"

"Well, thank you," he said quietly, but we still heard him as he neared.  
Sam and I got up from our seats and Bucky followed as I walked to the counter and grabbed the I.V.

"We're going to have you use the I.V. but you're also going to eat some soup, okay?" I explained and Bucky nodded, reaching his left arm out and grabbing the tube with the needle attacked. He stuck out his non-metal arm and looked at me, seeing me nod, and pushing the needle into the most protonate vein.

"Come and sit," Sam said and Bucky looked at me. I gave him a nod of encouragement before he followed Sam, who was holding a bowl of soup and a spoon, to the table.

I grabbed a glass and filled it with water before I walked back to the table. Sam was showing Bucky, who was sitting next to me and across from him, how to use a spoon and Buck was picking up on the concept pretty quickly. By the time I sat down, Bucky was eating like a pro.

"You might want to slow down. You don't want to get a stomach ache," Sam warned and Bucky did as he was told, slowing down to half his speed, which was a normal eating pace.

Sam and I chatted about sports and whatnot as Bucky finished his breakfast. The I.V. bag attacked to his arm was emptying at an incredible rate, but I decided not to question it.

It took about three minutes for Bucky to finish two bowls or soup. He would've eaten more, but Sam said that eating to much for his first time in decades might make him sick.

Bucky sat at the table as Sam and I put the dishes in the dishwasher. 

When there was a knock at the door, we all froze.

My head whipped around to look at Bucky who was sitting rigid in his chair with a terrified look on his face.

"Jarvis," Sam called out, "Who's at the door?"

"Sir, it's Ms. Romanoff, and she seems to impatient," the PA responded in a cool voice.

"Sam! Steve! Open the door!" A familiar voice yelled, and if possible, Bucky stiffened more.

"I'll let her in," Sam said, putting the pan he was holding in the dishwasher before heading to the front of the house.

I put down the cup I was holding and walked over to Bucky who was staring at the door.

"It's okay, Buck," I said, softly putting my hand on his shoulder, causing him to relax slightly. "It's one of the people that you remember. It's Natasha. We talked about her earlier," I explained and Bucky looked at me with a scared look in his eyes.

"I-I attacked her, right?" he asked and I smiled, nodding slowly.

"Yeah, but as long as you don't do it again, it'll be okay. She's not mad."  
Bucky just nodded and Natasha walked into the room with Sam following close behind.

"Tony told me he was here, but I had to come and see for myself," Nat said, walking over to Bucky who was tense once again. She looked his up and down as he sat in the chair with him looking back at her in a way that was a mixture of a look of fear and a glare.

After a good minute, Natasha said, "Вы должны подстричься," and ran her hands through Bucky's hair, causing him to flinch, but Nat pretended not to notice. "Могу ли я дать вам один ?" (You need a hair cut... Can I give you one?)

Bucky looked at me for my answer, but I just shrugged and looked at Sam who was as confused as I was.

"I have no idea what you just said," I told them and Natasha sighed.

"He needs a hair cut and I asked him if he wanted one," she explained and l look at Bucky.

"Do you want one? You don't have to get one if you don't want to," I said, crouching down by the chair so Bucky and I were on the same level. He shook his head. 

"нет."

"I'm assuming that means no," Sam said and Natasha nodded.

"Well if you won't cut it, you still need it out of your face," she said before walking behind him.

I stood up as she put her hand on his shoulder, letting him know that she was there. Nat starting running her fingers though his damp hair. Bucky stiffened before relaxing some and looking at me.

Natasha started pulling his hair back into her grip before pulling something off her wrist and wrapping it around his hair, putting it into a ponytail.

"Лучше?" she asked and Bucky nodded. (Better?)

"Спасибо." (Yes.)

Natasha smiled and walked from behind Buck and stood by his side, holding out her hand.

"I'm Natasha," she said and Bucky shook her hand after a moment. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky. We have a lot in common."

Bucky gave her a confused look, glancing at his arm and looking back at her.

Natasha shook her head. "No, not like that. I explain it to you someday soon. Just know that if you want to talk, I'll be here for you, okay?" Bucky nodded, not saying anything.

Natasha's phone vibrated just then and when she pulled it out and read the text, she frowned.

"What is it?" Sam asked and Nat shook her head.

"It's nothing, I just wanted to stop by and make sure everything was going okay, so, bye!" she said and walked out of the room, and we could hear the front door opening and then closing behind her.


	3. Chapter Three

Steve's POV

 

Three days had past without incident.

Bucky hadn't been talking that much and would barely speak without being spoken to first, but that wasn't any different than the first day.

He was now off his I.V. and was eating mostly soups and applesauce, which he really seemed to enjoy.

I had sent Sam back home so he could run his VA meeting because he had missed enough of them because of Bucky and I.

It had taken a little while, but once I had him convinced that Bucky and I would be fine and that he probably wouldn't try and kill me, he sighed, wished the two of us luck, made me promise to call at least twice times a day, and left.

Not twenty minutes later, Tony walked through the front door.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called, scaring Bucky and myself.

I flinched and stayed sitting, but Bucky jumped up and stood alert and ready to attack, but visibility relaxed when he saw it was just someone that he knew.

"Master Stark, how are you Sir?" Jarvis asked and Tony smiled.

"I'm great, Jarvis, thank you," he responded and walked over to the two of us.

Since Bucky and I were sitting on practically opposite sides of the couch, he sat between the two of us, Bucky sitting back down as he did.

"Everything going well?" he asked and I nodded.

"Yeah, things have been going better than I thought. What about for yourself?"

"Things are good. Pepper didn't yell at me to much for disappearing as she was more worried than mad. She hates it when I just up and leave with no explaination. She always thinks I'm getting into trouble."

Tony and I made small talk for the next few minutes before he turned his attention to the assassin in the room.

"How's you're arm doing?" Tony asked and Bucky looked at him.

"As well as normal," he responded in the quiet voice that he normally spoke in.

Bucky never spoke in a loud voice, and I knew why.

When searching for him, I had dug up every file that HYDRA had on the Winter Soldier. I read it all, wanting to know everything that I could.

I learned that if he acted out, he would get punished, sometimes in the most fucked up ways.

I read the manual that each of his handlers were given, and, well, I learned how to control him. I learned how to calm him down and I learned his trigger phrases, words that I would never EVER use.

With Hydra, it was the constant threat of pain that would keep him in line. The fear of getting punished for even the smallest thing made him stay obedient.

I hated that he treated me like his handler. Whenever someone else asked him something, he would look at me before responding.

"Would you mind if I took a look at it?" Tony asked, standing up. Bucky looked at me and I nodded in encouragement, copying Tony's actions, causing Bucky to stand also. "I'll take that as a yes," he said and started walking for the steps. "Follow me."

Tony led the way down to his lab. Once we got through the coded door, he had Bucky sit in the same metal chair as a few days ago.

At Tony's request, and my nod of confirmation, Bucky removed his shirt and leaned back, resting his metal arm on the armrest.

Everything was going fine for a while, Tony only making a few adjustments, saying how everything was in working order, until something went wrong.

I'm not sure what happened, Tony must've clipped the wrong wire or something, but Bucky went rigged, his jaw snapping shut and his body going stiff in the chair. He let out a mangled scream through his teeth and the armrest crumpled under his grip.

The skin on the left side of Bucky's neck and the skin around his metal shoulder started to turn black and the smell of what could only be burning flesh filled the room.

"What's happening!" I yelled, looking at a terrified Tony. "What did you do!"

"I-I don't-. I didn't-," he stuttered.

"Buck!" I yelled, putting my hands on Bucky's shoulders, trying to hold him still as he screamed. "Buck!"

His body shook and I felt something shock my hand, turning part of it black, looking like I was electrocuted.

When Tony saw my hand, he understood what had happening.

"There's electricity flowing through his body, frying his brain," he stated in a panicked voice.

That's when I understood too.

"He's getting wiped," I said, putting my hand back on his shoulder, holding him down and ignoring the pain in my hand.

I knew that whatever I was feeling, Bucky was getting tenfold.

"What does that mean?" Tony demanded, wanting more details.

"I read about it in his file," I grunted, keeping my arms stiff and secure. "Hydra would wipe his mind to make him do their bidding. I read that they built in a trigger in his arm so that they could have him wiped on a mission if absolutely necessary."

Tony had a guilty look on his face and he frowned, looking at the struggling man under my grip. "And I must've triggered it."

It was another minute before Bucky went limp, slumping in his chair, unconscious.

"No," I said, shaking my head and removing my hand from Bucky's shoulders. "I should've given you the blue-prints on his arm. This is my fault."

Tony gave both Bucky and I a look a pity, but he didn't disagree with me. "Do you think the wipe worked?"

"Only time will tell."


	4. Chapter Four

Steve's POV

 

After I had carried Bucky upstairs and laid him in his bed, I went and grabbed the blueprints. Tony started looking over them the moment they were in his hand and started writing down notes.

Since I knew he worked better when he was alone, I walked out of the lab and pulled out my phone, calling Sam.

"What's wrong?" he demanded the moment he answered.

"What gave you the idea that something was wrong?" I joked, even though it was obvious.

"I left less than two hours ago. Now, do you need me to come back? Because if so, I will turn around and be back in a little over an hour."

I shook my head as I responded. "No, the people at your meetings need you more, and Tony's here. I just wanted to let you know that something happened."

"What? Are you and Bucky okay? What about Tony?" he asked in a worried tone.

"I'm fine, but Bucky had a little incident. Tony accidentally triggered something in his arm that wiped him," I explained and Sam let out a sigh and I knew that he was probably running a hand through his buzzed hair.

"Well does he remember you?"

"I don't know," I told him. "He's still unconscious."

Sam let out another sigh. "Well when he wakes up, call me and let me know if he tries to kill you."

"I will, bye."

"Bye."

I went back into Bucky's room and sat on the floor by his bed, watching over him to make sure nothing else went wrong.

As normal, something went wrong.

It was a little over three hours before Bucky sat straight up in his bed.

I shot to my feet, but when he saw me, he did the same.

Without warning, his metal hand was around my neck and he let out a yell as he slammed me to the floor.

His hand tightened around my throat, cutting of my airways. I gripped his arm with my hand and pleaded with him with my eyes. It took a few seconds before I was able to do anything, but I croaking out a strangled, "Buck."

His eyes flashed with recognition a moment later and his hand quickly released my neck.

"Steve," he gasped, wide eyed.

I gasped for air as Bucky hurried back to his feet. He dashed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

I struggled to get to my feet for a few moments, but as soon as I did, I went to the bathroom door and knocked. There wasn't an answer, but I could swear I heard soft crying.

"Bucky?" I said softly through the door. "Buck, it's okay. I'm fine. Please open the door."

When I didn't hear anything but more soft crying, I sat down, resting my back against the wall by the door and running my hands down my face.

After a few minutes I heard the sound of Bucky shuffling to his feet and then the doorknob turning.

"I'm ready for my punishment," Bucky whimpered and my head snapped up to look at him.

When my eyes met his, I saw him gulp. He had tearstains streaking his cheeks and his eyes were red and puffy. It'd been decades since I'd seen him cry last and this made me heartbroken, and the words hurt even more.

"I'm not going to punish you, Buck." He looked confused.

"But-." I cut him off.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was reflexes. You can't help what your reflexes are." I could tell that he didn't understand what I was saying, but I had to try.

"But I hurt you. All my previous handlers punished me if I hurt them."

"That's the thing, Buck. I'm not your handler, I'm your friend," I explained, but he gave me another confused look. He seemed like he genuinely did not understand what I was saying. "Bucky, I'm here to take care of you, but not as your handler. You might not remember, but we used to be best friends. We would do everything together. You used to take care of me, now it's my turn to return the favor."

I could tell by the look in Bucky's eyes that he was thinking. After a moment, he smiled. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"You used to always be sick," he said quietly and I smiled back at him. I stood up, causing him to finch, but the grin didn't leave my face.

"You remember that, even though you were just wiped?" I asked and he nodded. "Can you remember anything else?" He hesitated before he nodded again and spoke a few sentences.

"I remember Hydra brainwashing me and wiping my memory." He continued speaking in that same, soft tone. "It wasn't permanent, that's why they had to do it over and over again and why I'm starting to remember."

That really peaked my interests.

"Remember things like what?" I asked, leaning closer to Bucky.

He looked up from his hands. "Your mom's name was Sarah and you used to wear newspapers in your shoes."


	5. Chapter Five

Steve's POV

 

Tony left the next day with a firm understanding of how Bucky's arm worked. He said that he'd start working on a light-weight proto type in his down time.

Of course by down time, I knew that he would do nothing but focus on it and get very little sleep, but I didn't argue with him because I knew how much Bucky's arm weighed on him both mentally and physically. Having a Stark made arm would probably be good for him, you know, if he wanted it. It was his choice. Everything was his choice.

Tony left right after breakfast, wanting to be able to fly home to his main lab and get to work as soon as possible, which was definatly not classifyed as 'down time,' but whatever.

By the time that lunch came around, I was starting to get restless. Being cooped up in the house all the time doing nothing wasn't good for me. As we sat on the couch, I looked over at Bucky, who was a on the other end. He was sitting perfectly still, the only movement was his chest raising and falling. Being still didn't bother him, neither did staying in the same place, because as a sniper, you had to stay in the same position for hours at a time, waiting for the right shot.

"Hey Buck," I said, halfway through our second show, "I have an idea." He turned his head towards me, eyebrows furred together. "Follow me," I told him, standing up and walking out of the room.

Given this was one of Tony's less used houses, it wasn't fully equipped with a training room, but that didn't really matter. I took us outside, not worried about any camera's watching us because I knew that Tony liked his privacy, and there was no one around for miles.

Bucky followed me, to the yard, looking confused, but also like he was trying to hide it.  
"If you want, we can spar," I said, giving Bucky the option.

He looked worried. "But I don't want to hurt you."

I smirked. "You don't have to worry about hurting me, but how about this. If I hurt you, you say 'stop' and I'll stop. If you hurt me, I'll tell you 'stop' and you stop, okay?" He nodded.

Bucky mirrored me as I took off my jacket and got in my stance. "Ready?" I asked and he nodded. "Go!"

There was no need for safe words.

 

~~~

 

We hit the sack earlier than normal, both being exhausted by the two hours of sparring. I made sure Bucky was sound asleep before I even considered going to bed, mostly because I wanted to make sure that he wouldn't try to run away while I was out of it.

Before I crawled into bed, I pulled out my phone and called Sam, like I always do before bed.

We talked briefly about how he was doing, but we mostly focused on Bucky.

"Yeah, I think he's going to let Tony build him a new arm," I told Sam, who I knew was smiling.

"That's great! He's really starting to trust people."

I nodded even though no one could see me. "I know, and we sparred today too after Tony left."

Sam was excited to hear that, him and I both loving that Bucky was making progress. Soon after tell him that, I yawned and I was ordered to go to bed.

"Will do, good night, Sam."

"Night, Cap."

 

~~~

 

I woke up to screaming. Doing the thing that came the most natural to me, I ran towards the sounds of pain.

"Steve!" Bucky shouted through the door. "Steve!"

Thinking Bucky was getting attacked, I barged into him room, but it was empty except for the bed.

Bucky was flailing, tangling himself in his blankets. As I got closer, I saw not only sweat covering his body, but tears streaming down his face. He was scratching at the scars where metal met flesh, causing himself to bleed.

"Steve!" He shouted again, his voice cracking this time. Sam would know what to do, but I didn't want Bucky to keep dreaming any longer than necessary, so I did what I thought was best.

I ran over to him and climbed on top, straddling his waist and holding his hands to his sides. I didn't stay in the position long though.

"Help!" he cried. "Steve!" Throughout his flailing, I was thrown off him and I landed on the floor.

"Bucky! Wake up!" I shouted. Not knowing what to do, I crawled into Bucky's bed, and when he turned in back in all his movement, I grabbed onto him and held him to my chest. "Buck, wake up, you're having a nightmare," I said in the calmest voice I could muster.

It took a few minutes, but eventually he stopped moving and relaxed against my chest.

"Steve?" he croaked, his voice breaking.

"It's okay, I'm here. It's just a nightmare. Try to breathe. It's okay, nightmares happen. I'm here," I said calmly.

After about ten minutes, Bucky moved from my grip and the two of us sat up against the headboard. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked a few minutes later.

He froze and shook his head, but after a moment, he nodded.

"I was strapped to a table and a short man-," his voice broke, "-my first handler, came up to me and started hurting me and injecting me with stuff and I just kept screaming out your name, wanting you to save me." That was the most he'd talked since I'd found him, but I didn't want to hear any of it. It was Zola he was talking about, I was sure of it.

He started talking again. "There were doctors, and they started to remove what left of my arm, replacing it with a metal one, and they wouldn't stop hurting me. I kept calling out your name, but you never came." Bucky's eyes were watering up and overflowing. "You never saved me."

"I did save you," I said, tears coming to my eyes. "I did. The first time you got captured, I saved you. The second time, I thought you were dead." My voice was breaking as we spoke. The fact that he remembered something made me happy, but at he same time, he remembered the time I didn't save him and it utterly broke me. I pulled him into a hug.

I held Bucky until his tears stopped, and surprisingly, he let me.

When I let go, he gave me a pitiful look and spoke, his words so soft and hesitant I could barely hear them.

"I don't want them to get me. I don't want to go back."


	6. Chapter Six

Steve's POV

 

I took those words to heart immediately. He sounded so sad; so broken.

Just because he's unarmed doesn't mean he's not dangerous, but he doesn't feel safe without a weapon. I told him to wait here and I went down the two flights of stairs to the lab where I went into Bucky's backpack that we kept down there. Wanting to give Bucky the choice, I brought the backpack upstairs with me.

I knew that Bucky knew I was coming, but I knocked on the door before entering.

"Steve?" he asked and I walked in. His eyes lit up when he saw his bag of weapons. He reached out for it, but before I handed it to him, I gave him a very short talk.

"I'm giving you this to make you feel safe, and because I trust you not to use it on me or anyone of our friends."

"Friends?" he asked, confused. It was like he didn't know the word.

"Yeah, friends. Sam, Tony, Natasha, and others that you'll probably meet eventually." He nodded and I continued. "I just have one rule for you."

"What is it?"

"Don't shoot anyone unless I tell you too. Now, you just get one, but you get to choose, okay?" I said and he nodded. I handed him the backpack and he dug through it for a few seconds before pulling out a Hydra-made pistol.

Part of me felt like he was immediately going to turn it on me and shoot me in the head, and another part of me trusted my best friend with the weapon, but all of me was surprised when he turned around and tucked it under his pillow.

"Thank you, Steve, for trusting me."

I smiled at him. "Any time."

~~~

Giving Bucky a gun was the right decision. Well, up until the time that he pointed it at me.

Given, it wasn't his fault, it was just a reflex.

It was the two nights later when he had another nightmare.

I woke up to the sound of someone whimpering in what could only be fear. Now, I've always been a light sleeper, but I'm not so sure that I heard the sound of Bucky in fear so much as I felt it.

When I got to his room to wake him up, he wasn't thrashing around like he was the other night, he was just shaking and his head was turning back and forth, like he was trying to get out of something. He was whimpering and letting out small 'no's' of protest as the clamminess of his face became more and more prominent. He started breathing heavier and heavier to the point that he was going to start hyperventilating and so I did the only thing I could do; which was wake him up.

I'm not sure what exactly I did to get a gun pointed at my face, but my hands when up in surrender immediately. Thankfully, Bucky didn't pull the trigger, he just kept the thing pointed at my face until his breathing started to slow down.

"S-Steve?" he stuttered, dropping the gun back onto the bed. "I-I'm sorry." Bucky looked terrified, so I did the first thing that came to mind. I hugged him.

I held him close to me and whispered, "It's okay," over and over again until his breathing evened out and the shaking stopped. "It's okay."

~~~

When Bucky came downstairs for breakfast in the morning, I could see the outline of the gun tucked into the back of his sweatpants.

"I-I'm sorry about pointing my gun at you last night," he said, pulling the gun out and placing it in front of me on the table. "I understand if you want to take it back."

I picked up the weapon in front of me and studied it. "What type of gun is this?" I asked, looking up at Bucky who was standing over me.

"It's called 'Hedie,' because the bullets are coated in poison so even if it's a graze, you'll still die," Bucky explained with an eerie smile on his face.

"Hedie?" I asked and he nodded. "He-die?" I said slowly and Bucky nodded.

"It's one of the most deadly gun they've made since the Forties, and so they kept the name simple, so even the 'idiots who use the gun' could remember the name."

I chuckled and I saw small grin playing at the corners of Bucky's lips. "Buck," I said, handing the gun back to him, "I trust you with this. And if you keep having nightmares, you can always sleep in my room."

 

Bucky took me up on the offer later that week. I was happy about it, but it scared me shitless. I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and low and behold, there was someone sitting on the floor of my room, back resting against the wall.

Once I realized that it was only Bucky, I smiled softly. I got up quietly and walked over to him, grabbing my blanket as I went. I saw his right arm tucked behind him, resting on the gun that was tucked into the waistband of his pants.

Bucky woke up as the blanket covered him, but he didn't pull the gun out, he just flinched and sleepily looked up at me. "Thanks," he mumbled before his head fell back down and he was asleep again.

After I went to the bathroom, I exited my room and grabbed myself another blanket from the hall closet before heading back to bed and falling back asleep.

I regret that decision.

 

I looked down at the monitor, knowing it was now or never. I looked back up, only seeing the beautiful sky in front of me.

"This thing is moving to fast and heading to New York," I said, knowing that Peggy could hear me. "I gotta put her in the water."

"P-Please, don't do this. We have time," Peggy said, stuttering. "We can work it out."

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are going to die," I said, the plane soaring closer to the bay. "Peggy..." I paused before I spoke next. "This is my choice." She didn't respond and I knew she was probably starting to cry.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pocket watch and set it on the dash, opened so I could see the face of my best girl.

I pushed the planes controllers down, causing the plane to tip forward, heading towards the ice.

"Peggy," I said again, softly this time.

"I'm here," she whispered as my view changed from clouds to the icy ocean.

"I'm going to need a rain check on that dance."

"Alright," she said, and I could hear her tears in her voice. "A week, next Saturday, at the Stork club."

"You got it."

"Eight O'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood." There was only ice in front of me now.

"You know, I still don't know how to dance," I said, tears coming to my eyes. I was scared. So scared, but I knew that if I didn't do this, if I pulled back up and headed to New York, many more people than just myself would die, and I couldn't let that happen.

"I'll show you how, just be there," Peggy said softly.

"We'll have the band play something slow." Ice. It was only ice. The impact was coming and I knew it. "I'd hate to step on your-."

That's when it hit.

My head flew forward, but my body was held in place by the seatbelt. I could feel the whip lash and it put me out of commission for a few seconds.

The plane had crashed through the first layer of ice, half in the water.

The front half of the plane flooded as the windshield broke. I undid the seatbelt as quickly as I could, getting away from the water. I climber up the plane until I got to the back, but the water had already covered me from the initial impact.

I was getting cold, so very cold. It caused me to fall to my knees and I knew that it was coming. Death was coming.

I used the last of my energy to lay down, waiting for my final sleep to take over me.

I thought of Peggy, and how I knew she would go to the Stork club and wait for me, hoping that I was alive.

I knew I wouldn't make it, because I was freezing. I was dying.

I thought of the kiss we shared, the last time I had seen her.

And how she was probably crying right now, crying over losing me.

Then my last thought.

My last thought. My very last thought.

At least I would see Bucky again.

 

I woke up to someone shaking me.

"Steve," the voice said. "Steve!" It shouted.

I opened my eyes, only to see a very worried looking Bucky leaning over me. "Are you okay?" he asked and I nodded, sitting up.

I ran a hand through my hair, "Yeah, it was just a nightmare."

Bucky's eyebrows ferried together like he didn't understand. "You have nightmares too?"

I nodded. "Yeah, not as often as I used too, though."

Bucky paused before speaking. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked timidly.

I smiled. "If you're willing to listen."

"I am."

I told him everything. Everything from kissing Peggy before I got onto the plane to the plane crashing. I told him that I blacked out after that, when in reality I didn't, but I didn't want him to know that my last thought was him. I wasn't sure why I didn't want him to know, but I left it out all the same.

Bucky thought for a moment before speaking. "I think I remember Shmidt," he said quietly. "I think I remember watching him rip off his face, but it was really a mask and his actual face was red and he didn't have a nose."

"That happened," I told him, smiling. "Do you remember anything else that happened at that time?"

He closed him eyes, deep in thought. It was a good thirty seconds before he spoke next. "There was fire. Everything was on fire. And you were there. I had the chance to leave, but I wouldn't leave you."

My smile widened. "No, you wouldn't."

"Why didn't I leave you?" he asked, confused. "Why couldn't I leave? I remember that it felt like it wasn't even an option." I stayed quiet, wanting Bucky to remember the answer on his own. I was so happy that he was remembering this much, so happy that he was talking this much. But his next sentence shattered me. "Were you my handler back then too?"


	7. Chapter Seven

Bucky's POV

When Steve had shown me my bed, I didn't know what to do. Normally I was supposed to strip down and lay on top of it at the order of my handler, but Steve never told me to do that. Instead, he had me lay in it and then didn't crawl in with me.

When I had to use my I.V., Steve didn't just jab it into the most prominent vein in my wrist, he either carefully put the needle in the crook of my arm, or let me put it in myself.

Steve lets me take showers to get clean, as many as I want, not just spraying me down with a hose to get all the blood and dirt off of me.

Steve let me eat, not just survive off of I.V.'s. He and Sam started me off on simple soups like chicken broth and tomato before moving on to things like chicken noodle and then eventually heavier things like vegetable and meat soups.

I'd tried an apple a while ago, but I threw it up almost immediately, and Steve didn't get mad. He didn't punish me. He even let me try it again a few days later and things went better.

When Tony accidentally whipped me, and I accidentally hurt Steve, Steve was very understanding. He didn't punish me for choking him, or for locking myself in the bathroom, or for anything else I might've done to wrong him. Steve is nice. He's a nice handler.

Natasha has visited twice. The first time she pulled my hair back and spoke to me in Russian, the second time we talked, or she talked, about her experience in the Red Room. The Red Room sounded familiar, and I told her that, and she went on to explain it in more detail for me.

Natasha told Steve, and then Steve had explained it to me, that SHEILD knows about me but not my exact location, and it was her job to be the messenger between us and the government. She said that she'll be keeping them updated on my recovery and that my extraction was not necessary, which made me grateful. Natasha was nice. She was a friend.

Tony was a friend too. He had visited a few times to make sure Steve and I were okay, and he told me that, if it was okay with me, he'd make me a new arm. One that was lighter and had more sensors in it so it would feel more like 'the real thing,' as he put it. He took the measurements he needed and said that it might take a while, but he'd do his best to get it done quickly. I told him thank you.

Steve, even though he was my handler, was my favorite friend. He was nice and kind and understanding. Steve wasn't afraid of me, even when I wake up screaming. He'd come into my room and comfort me, up until he invited me to sleep in his room, which I did. It had taken me a few nights to build up the courage to, but one night when I was too afraid of my nightmares to sleep, I went to Steve's room.

I entered his room silently, trying hard to not wake him up. I was on edge about waking him up since previous handlers had reacted negatively to that.

As I sat on the floor, resting my back against the wall and my right hand on the gun that was tucked into my sweatpants, I thought about Steve.

I wondered if he'd take me into bed, like my other handlers had, and prove his love to me. I hoped that he would, but I wasn't going to ask to go to the bed, that wasn't my place.

Past handlers had only waited a matter of days before showing their love for me, and none had waited longer than a week. The fact that I'd been with Steve for about two weeks now started to worry me, and bad thoughts invaded my mind. Ones about how he must find me unattractive, or how he really doesn't love me.

It took until Steve moved in his sleep for my thoughts the change.

I thought about how Steve was the nicest handler that I could remember ever having. He seemed to care for me a great deal more than the others ever did and he spends a lot more time with me than the others ever would.

This was also the longest consecutive time I've ever spent with one of my handlers, which made me happy. I liked spending time with Steve.

With that thought in my mind, I fell asleep.

~~~

I woke up to a sound. It was just some mumbling, but there was something off about it. It sounded sad, scared.

As I got up, a noticed a blanket over my shoulders and vaguely remembered Steve putting it around me. That was nice of him. He takes good care of me.

When I saw tears on Steve's face and him shivering, I knew I had to do something. I would take whatever punishment he would give me for waking him up, but I didn't like seeing him like this; like he was in pain.

"Steve," I said loudly, nearing him. He didn't react to my word. "Steve!" I shouted. He opened his eyes, looking up at me. "Are you okay?" I asked and he nodded as he sat up.

"Yeah," he said, running a hand through his hair, "It was just a nightmare."

My eyebrows ferried together in confusion. "You have nightmares too?"

He nodded. "Yeah, not as often as I used too, though."

I hesitated before speaking, unsure if I would get in trouble for asking what I said next; What he always asked me after I had a nightmare. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He smiled. "If you're willing to listen."

I was always willing to listen. "I am."

He started talking about this girl named Peggy, and him kissing her goodbye. For some reason, pictured her with brown doe eyes and brown wavy hair. It was a fairly clear picture I had formed in my head and I wasn't sure why.

He talked about getting onto the plane and how there was this glowing blue cube that was all powerful and deadly. I thought I remembered seeing weapons that shot blue bullets that caused people to dissolve or explode, but I wasn't sure where that thought came from.

When he finished talking, it seemed like he wanted to add something else, but he kept it back, and I respected that. It wasn't my place to push him for information; this wasn't an interrogation.

I felt bad that it was Hydra that had hurt him, that it was Hydra that had caused him to much pain. I knew that Steve was an enemy of Hydra, and part of him told me to kill him for that, but the majority of myself told me that I needed to protect him, that I needed to keep him safe. He was my handler after all, even if he wasn't Hydra. And I knew that if Hydra attacked Steve again, I would protect him with my life.

"I think I remember Shmidt," I whispered. "I think I remember watching him rip off his face, but it was really a mask and his actual face was red and he didn't have a nose." I also thought I remembered asking Steve if he had one of those but I held that back.

"That happened," he said, smiling. "Do you remember anything else that happened at that time?"

I closed my eyes and thought deeply, images flashed of orange fire and myself walking on a pillar that had fallen over, Steve waiting for me to cross and when I did, the pillar fell. When I was free to run, to be safe, I didn't take the chance. "There was fire," I said. "Everything was on fire. And you were there. I had the chance to leave, but I wouldn't leave you."

Steve's smile widened. "No, you wouldn't."

"Why didn't I leave you?" I asked, confused. "Why couldn't I leave? I remember that it felt like it wasn't even an option." Steve stayed quiet, and I closed my eyes again, thinking back.

I remembered helping him when he was sick and watching over him at all points in our lives. Then it clicked; it all made sense. I took care of him, I kept him safe and he took care of me too. "Were you my handler back then too?" I asked and Steve's face fell.

He took a breath like he was going to say something, but then he let it out and shook his head. I swear I could see that start of tears in his eyes, but before I could get a good look, Steve started blinking his eyes quickly and turned his face away.

He didn't say anything else and neither did I.


	8. Chapter Eight

Bucky's POV

 

As we sat and ate breakfast the next morning, Steve's phone started to ring and I jumped at the sudden sound.

"It's only Sam, Buck. Don't worry." Steve accepted the call and stood up, walking from the kitchen and into the living room. I didn't follow so he could have some privacy, but I still heard everything that Steve said, even though he spoke quietly.

"Hey, Sam...Things are good...Okay, no, but things are manageable...He's doing good, he remembered some things that happened during the war...Yeah, World War II. He slept on my floor last night and woke me up from a nightmare...I was crashing into the ocean...Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry...I told him about the dream and he filled in some of the details of the things that happened before...Yeah, I know, that that's a great thing, it's just something that he said at the end...He thinks I'm his handler...Yeah, and I don't know when he'll understand that, but I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually...I hope so too...Okay, have fun. Talk to you tomorrow...Bye."

As Steve walked back into the kitchen, I started eating once again but I had the feeling that Steve knew I was listening. I was thankful that he didn't say anything though, and that he didn't punish me.

~~~

I walked into Steve's room with my pillow and blanket like I had the past three nights. Sleeping in his room made me feel safe and it helped with my nightmares, which was good.

As I sat on the ground by the wall, Steve walked out of the bathroom and laid on the bed.

He let out a sigh. "Buck, you don't have to sleep on the floor since I know it's uncomfortable," he said and my heart beat sped up. Was he about to ask me to join him? Was he about to prove his love to me?

"The bed's big enough for two, hell, three even. So," he softly patted the spot next to him. "You're more than welcome to join."

As I stood up and climbed into bed, I was filled with excitement. This was finally going to happen.

I immediately straddled Steve, reaching my hand down and starting to palm him through his boxers.

"Buck, what are you doing!?" Steve shouts, startling me.

"Getting you hard," I said, confused, stopping my hand movements at the tone of Steve's voice.

Steve was wide-eyed. "Why?"

"Because we're sharing a bed. That mean's sex," I stated, not understanding why Steve was so shocked about this. Whenever I'd shared a bed with my other handlers, they'd show their love for me by having sex with me.

"No, it doesn't," Steve said, sitting, I was still on his lap. "Two people can share a bed without having sex."

I didn't understand.

Steve didn't want to have sex with me?

Does he not love me?

Tears start to fill my eyes and I crawls off Steve, muttering the words, "I'm just going to sleep on the couch."

I walked out of the room, shutting the door behind me. I went to the hall closet and grabbed a pillow and blanket. Wiping away my tears that had started to fall, I walked down stairs and headed to the couch.

As I laid down, the negative thoughts filled my head once more.

He thinks I'm hideous.

He doesn't love me.

He thinks of me as a burden.

Tears streamed down my face as I fell asleep.

~~~

"Bucky!" Steve shouted, bleeding all over from where my punches landed. "Please!" I ignored him.

"Stop!" I did nothing but beat him to the floor.

"I'm your friend," he begged, not fighting me back.

"You are not my friend," I growled, my metal first flying straight down at his chest, puncturing his skin and going through flesh and bone. I pulled out the still beating organ. "I have no friends."

I dropped the still heart of Captain America onto the floor next to me.

~~~

I woke up in a sweat, shaking.

"No," I mumbled, tears in my eyes. I got out of the blanket that I was tangled in, throwing my shirt off of me as soon as I could, sitting up and gripping the edge of my metal arm with my flesh one.

"No," I whispered, tears now flowing down. I scratching at where skin met metal.

I started to bleed; both my fingers and my shoulder started to bleed.

"No," I said sternly, letting out a quiet sob. I started pulling at my shoulder, trying to rip it off but it wasn't budging.

I got up and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the drawer.

I put the blade as far under the metal as I could and started trying to pry it away.

I let out a cry of pain, one that would've gotten my beat by my previous handlers. I couldn't be weak in front of them.

Blood was sliding down the left side of my torso, getting smudged on my right side as I carved at my shoulder.

I noticed Steve as soon as he started walking towards me and I started to sob harder. He moved slowly as he grabs a washcloth off the counter. He softly grabbed the knife out of my grip and tossed it into the sink, it clattering as it lands.

He presses the cloth up against my gash and pulled out his phone and calls someone. I couldn't make out what he was saying because my crying drowned everything else out.

Steve doesn't say anything, he just kept pressure on the bleeding area, so after I calmed down, which took a while, I spoke.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Not a problem," he responded without hesitation. "You're never a problem." He paused. "But you want to tell me what this was all about?"

I shook my head and Steve let out a sigh. "Well, Tony will be here soon with Bruce to help."

"Bruce?" I asked, fear filling me at the thought of meeting someone else.

"He's another friend."

 

 

Steve's POV

 

Bucky walked into my room with stuff to sleep like he had been doing for the past three nights now. I think that sleeping in my room helped with his nightmares since he hadn't had any since he started sleeping in my room.

I was happy that I made him feel safe.

I saw Bucky sitting on the floor getting 'comfortable' and I walked out of the bathroom.

As I laid on the bed, I let out a sigh.

"Buck, you don't have to sleep on the floor since I know it's uncomfortable," I said and Bucky looked...odd. "The bed's big enough for two, hell, three even. "So," I patted the spot next to me softly, "You're more than welcome to join."

As Bucky stood up, climbing into bed, he looked excited.

That's when he straddled me, reaching his hand down and palming me through my boxers. "Buck!" I shouted, startling him. "What are you doing!?"

"Getting you hard," he said, confused, but he stopped his hand movements.

"Why?" I asked, astonished at what was happening.

"Because we're sharing a bed. That mean's sex," he stated.

"No, it doesn't," I said, sitting up even though Bucky was still on my lap. I wanted to be at eye level. "Two people can share a bed without having sex."

He didn't seem to understand.

His eyes filled with tears as he crawled off of me, muttering.

I caught the word, "couch," as Bucky walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

I laid in bed, confused, thinking back to all the things I read in the Winter Soldier's files. I remembered briefly reading things like 'Reward him in after missions by Sierra Six.' Which I knew was code for something, but it might've been code for sex.

I shivered at the thought.

~~~

I didn't sleep that night. All the horrible thoughts of the things that had happened to Bucky filled my mind.

It was around two in the morning when a cry of pain caught my attention. I immediately got up and left my room. As I went down the stairs, I expected to see Bucky flailing on the couch from another nightmare, but he wasn't there, which caused me to be really worried.

I ran down the rest of the stairs and went straight into the kitchen since it was the only other place on the main floor.

I froze in the doorway.

Bucky was standing, well leaning on the counter, shirtless, but that's not what caused me to freeze. The entire left side of his torso, and some of his right side, was covered in blood.

It was all coming from the seam of his left arm, where metal met flesh.

Bucky held a knife with bleeding fingers as he tried to cut and pry the arm away.

I slowly walked up to him and he noticed me for the first time. Tears were streaming down his face as sobs broke out.

As I neared him, I grabbed a washcloth off the counter and carefully took the knife out of his bloody grip. I tossed the knife into the sink so it was far away and I put the washcloth on Bucky's shoulder, pressing it firmly.

He kept sobbing.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Tony.

"What's wrong?" Was the first thing he said. He probably heard the sobbing in the background.

"Bucky's trying to rip his arm off and it's really bloody," I stated.

"I'll be right there and I'll bring Bruce," Tony rushed out and I hung up the phone, setting it back on the counter since it now had blood on it.

I didn't say anything to Bucky, I just kept the pressure on the wound so he wouldn't bleed out.

When he started to calm down, Bucky spoke. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Not a problem," I said without hesitation. "You're never a problem," I stated. "But you want to tell me what this was all about?" He shook his head and I sighed. "Well, Tony will be here soon with Bruce to help."

"Bruce?" Bucky asked, eyes widening.

"He's another friend."

It was less than thirty minutes before Tony and Bruce walked in the front door with bags of stuff and directed Buck and me to the lab.

Bruce immediately wiped Bucky off and hooked Bucky up to give him more blood as Tony started removing the arm.

They worked in near silence and I was too afraid to interrupt them to ask what they were doing. Bucky just laid there, not saying anything.

Tony was there for the mechanics and Bruce was there for everything else. He gave Bucky a shot of morphine and numbed the area that Tony was working on. He had wanted to put Bucky under anesthesia, but Bucky was too afraid of that, so he just laid there high as a kite and awake.

It took two hours for the arm to be removed and the shoulder to be stitched up and wrapped. Tony said that he hadn't finished the new arm yet, but was only about a week or so away from it being done.

Before they left, Bruce gave me some healing cream that I was supposed to apply to Bucky's shoulder twice a day, starting in the morning.

It was going to take about thirty more minutes for the morphine to exit Bucky's system, but he didn't want to move so I just sat by him as he laid on the table.

"I had a dream," Bucky said suddenly, "Where I used my arm to rip out your heart. It scared me. I don't want that to happen," Bucky said, tearing up.

That stunned me. It stunned me that he was sharing this with me. It was probably the drugs, but it was still unexpected. "Is that why you tried to rip your arm off?" I asked and he nodded.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, a tear slipping down his face.

"You don't have to worry about that," I said, matching his volume. "I can take care of myself."

"I don't want to hurt you," he repeated. "You're my mission," he said softly, but I still stiffened at the words, that is, until he continued talking, "And you've been my mission my entire life. 'Take care of Stevie. Don't let him get hurt.'"


	9. Chapter Nine

Steve's POV

Bucky's balance wasn't that great. When he first got up off the table, he nearly toppled over but I caught him and helped him stand straight.

At first, I just thought it was the drugs that were still sort of in his system and wearing off, but a few hours later I realized that his entire center of balance was off. His arm had weighed about forty-five pounds, so when he would walk, or stand up, he would automatically think all that weight was still there so he'd fall over or serious stumble. I spent most of the time of us moving with my arm around him, keeping him balanced.

Walking up and down the stairs was a slow process, but we got quicker and quicker with it each time.

At the beginning, Bucky had been terrified for me to touch him and would tense every time I wrapped my arm around his waist, but he was getting used to it; it was just taking time.

Sam had been calling to check in, and when I told him what happened, he had wanted to come and check up on Bucky, but I talked him out of it. Bucky hadn't really been talking since the time he was on morphine, and I wasn't going to push him into socializing.

He had been sleeping on my floor, and I knew that couldn't be comfortable, but I was too afraid to ask him to share my bed again after what happened last time.

We still haven't talked about it but since he didn't seem to want to talk at all, I avoided the subject.

I sat on the floor behind Bucky, putting the healing cream onto his shoulder. At first, he was flinching whenever I touched him to put on the cream, but by now, which was about the tenth time, he was leaning into my touch.

When I started putting the healing stuff on, I would just quickly wipe it on and rub it in before wrapping it up again. Now, I massaged what was left of his left shoulder and he would lean his head to the side so I could work on it better. He had knots upon knots upon knots in his shoulder and would stifle moans and sounds of pain as I worked on them.

"Steve," he said quietly and my hands stopped moving, but quickly started up again. This was the first time since the incident that he had spoken first.

"Yeah, Buck?" I responded.

"Do you think we could try sharing the bed again?" He asked and I tensed. "We don't have to have sex," he added quickly, "it's just that the floors uncomfortable and, like you said, the bed is big enough to for two people."

I smiled softly.

"Yeah, Buck," I said again. "We could try that."

Once I wrapped up his shoulder, we laid in bed, as far apart as the bed would allow."I'm not who I used to be, Steve," Bucky said after about twenty minutes of us laying in silence, "And I'll never be him again."

"Good," I responded, "Because I'm not who I used to be either."

~~~

Tony and Bruce showed up two days later with a brand new arm.

It weighed about fifteen pounds, was a shiny silver, and had my shield painted onto it where the red star had been on his last one.

Bucky loved it.

Right after Tony and Bruce attached it and hooked up the nerves and such, which took much much longer than when they took the arm off, Bucky had immediately started waving his arm around and smiling widely. It might've been the first time I'd seen him smile in weeks.

"Thank you," he said, sounding very genuine. "Thank you so much."

Bruce and Tony gave him a quick rundown of his arm. It was one hundred perfect water proof, had more sensors so it was almost like a real arm, was still strong enough to block a bullet and carry heavy loads, and how he could easily switch off the sensors so the arm just moves like normal but doesn't feel anything.

As soon as they left, Bucky turned to me, a smile still on his face.

"I like Bruce and Tony. They're nice," he told me and I grinned.

"Yes, they are."

~~~

When Bucky had come down for breakfast, he was wearing a long sleeve shirt that was only long sleeved on one side.

On the left side, the sleeve had been torn off, and he was proudly showing off his new arm.

"Looking good, Buck," I told him and he smiled.

"Thank you," he replied politely.

"You know," I told him, "You don't have to be so polite. You can just be like, 'Yeah, I know my arms amazing,' and that'll work too. You could even be like, 'Fuck yeah I do,' and that'd be okay."

Bucky looked confused. "You won't get mad?"

I shook my head. "I'd never get mad at you. You can say anything you want. You can do anything that you want."

"Can we try this conversation over?" Bucky asked hesitantly.

"Of course," I said, nodding. "Looking good, Buck," I repeated.

He smiled widely. "Fuck yeah I do." I chuckled and then he chuckled. It was a beautiful sound.

"You know, you used to swear quite a bit back in the day," I informed him and he paused for a second, thinking.

"If I remember correctly," he told me, "you were the one who taught me to swear, and how to swear in different languages."

He remembered something else, and I couldn't be happier. "I might've been the one to make you start, but you learned a wide verity on your own once you joined the army."

He froze and then looked me in the eyes. "I was in the army?" He asked slowly. I nodded and before I could start talking, he continued. "Like, you mean that as the Soldier, right? The Winter Soldier?"

I shook my head. "No, Buck. You were a soldier. With other men, who fought against the bad. Who fought against Hydra," I tried explaining.

"But why would I fight against my handlers?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing together. I could tell that he genuinely didn't understand.

"Because you didn't always have handlers," I told him. "You were once a free man, free to do anything. And that's what you are once again, Buck. You're free. You have no one to control you."

He looked at me like I was crazy. "But I like having a handler. I like having you as a handler, having you take care of me."

I sighed. "I don't have to be your handler to take care of you. I can be your friend," I explained. "But if it makes you happier or more comfortable to think of me as your handler, for now, you can, but you can't forever."

"Thank you," Bucky said and I shut my eyes and sighed again.

"Just remember," I said and opened my eyes, "you're free to say and do whatever you want. You don't have to ask permission to do anything. The kitchen is open to you, so is the tv, if you want to do something, just do it."

Bucky smiled at his new found 'freedom' that he's had for weeks now, but at least he's finally starting to understand it.

 

~~~

 

"Hey Steve," Bucky said, knocking on my/our opened bedroom door; I kept it open so Bucky knew he was always welcomed. "Can we spar?"

"Wanna try out your new arm?" I asked and he nodded.

"Yeah, I haven't practiced fighting with it, but I think I'm used to the weight of it enough to put up a decent fight," he said as I got out of bed, walking to my closet and changing into workout clothes to match what Bucky was wearing.

We walked down to the back yard and got into our fighting stances.

During the middle of our fight, a firework went off. Bucky doesn't miss a beat as he lunged forward and tackled me to the ground, pinning me down as he looks around us, surveying the area and looking for the threat.

"Bucky!" I yell. "It's okay!" He looks down at me, scared and confused. "It's just a firework!"

"A what?" he asked, not understanding.

Another one goes off and he pushes me further into the ground on reflex. I reach my hands up and grab his in my own. I move them from my shoulders and I sit up, pushing him up with me. I point to the sky as another one goes off.

"Firework?" He asked and I nodded.

"Yeah, people light them for the Fourth of July and the week leading up to it," I explained and he turned and looked at me. We were both now sitting by each other on the ground.

"It sounds like gun shots," he said, his voice slightly shaking.

I frowned. "I know, and I don't like the sound either. But don't worry, the fireworks won't hurt us, it's just the sound that's bad."

Another one goes off.

"Let's go inside," I tell him, standing up. I reach my hand out to him and he reaches back and I pull him until he's standing.

Another firework goes off and he flinches again.

I put my arm around his shoulder and pull him closer to my body and he relaxes, feeling more safe and secure.

~~~

"You know," I said to Bucky as we laid in our bed as the fireworks went off. He was pressed to me, hiding his face in my shoulder, his arms squeezing harder around me each time a firework exploded. "You used to tell me that the fireworks on the Fourth of July were just for me."

He looked up at me. "Why would I say that?"

I looked down at him. "Because today is my birthday," I stated and his eyes widened.

"How old are you?" He asked and I chuckled.

"Somewhere around one hundred," I told him and he looked confused.

"How old am I?"

"Somewhere are there too. Don't forget, we were both frozen for an extended period of time." I hoped that he didn't get triggered by my words, but he just frowned.

"I can't believe I forgot your birthday," he mumbled and I chuckled.

"It's okay, we can always celebrate it next year."

As another firework went off, the conversation ended since Bucky's head was once again tucked away in my shoulder.

My phone that was sitting on the nightstand started to buzz, and after checking who it was, I put it to my ear.

"Hey, Sam," I said as I answered.

"Bud, sorry I didn't call earlier. I've been on the phone with different people from my group, calming them down because the fireworks aren't good for their PTSD. But how are you two holding up? And happy birthday!" Sam rushed out, not wanting to forget.

"Thanks, Sam, and we're managing. Thing's could be better but they could most definitely be worse too."

He and I talked for another few minutes, mostly about Bucky's condition like always, which was getting better every day, and then Sam had another call from one of the vets.

Moments after I hung up, something crashed through our window. Bucky and I jump up, him kicking the grenade under the bed. We both hit the walls as it exploded, but were still alive.

As I pushed myself to my feet, I heard the sound of men entering the house with heavy footsteps.

"Buck, you okay?" I shout, looking through the smoke at where I expected my friend to be.

After a moment, he replied with a simple, "Yeah."

A group of men kicked open our bedroom door; I had locked it to make Bucky feel safer from the fireworks. As soon as I came back to my senses, I got into fighting mode.

I dived for the nightstand where I keep a spare gun hidden in the top drawer, pulling it out and taking out two of the guys within seconds.

Bucky was going hand to hand with the third guy, blocking incoming bullets from the door with his new arm.

I continued shooting at the door, taking out guy after guy with my gun.

That's when I realized it.

Bucky wasn't using his gun, just his hands and anything that was near him.

Then I remembered. I had told him not to use the weapon without my permission.

"Use your gun, Buck!" I shouted over the sounds of the bullets leaving the chamber.

He didn't hesitate to pull out the weapon that was tucked away in the back of his pants and shoot the guy he was fighting in the head.

The two of us cleared the upper level in a matter of minutes, soon moving down the stairs to finish the house.

We walked onto the front porch, watching a man clamber into the waiting Quinjet. "See you later, Cap, Asset," Rumlow called to us. Bucky and I aimed our weapons, but the jet just reflected our bullets as they hit.

We watched as it flew off, taking away the one man both Bucky and I really wanted to kill.


End file.
